06-19-2017, 01:04 PM
Mad Bull grumbled in pain and shook his head awake.
Skreeep...skruuup...skraamp!
The bruised Sergeant awoke, finding himself being drug along in a harness by Deadpool. The muddy wetlands squelched with each inch. The Merc with the Mouth was gaily whistling an upbeat tune as he pulled the burly cop along. The song sounded vaguely like “Y.M.C.A.”
“Whaa, where am I?” The dazed officer asked.
Deadpool stopped suddenly, dropping the Sergeant with a soggy plop in the mud. “Where? Can ya believe this guy! I thought you were supposed to ask cops for directions, not the other way around,” Deadpool replied with a mocking tone. Noticing the joke went totally over Mad Bull's still confused head, he decided to be at least partially helpful.
“We are in the big 'H' - 'E' - 'Double Hockey Sticks,' officer!”
“Ackkhff! " The burly cop coughed and spat out the last of the seawater in his lungs. "No, this ain't hell… we're still in that game show, right? Dante's Abyss?”
“Ding! Ding! Ding! Give the man a prize!”
Mad Bull grumbled and began to pick himself out of the mud. He motioned at Deadpool for his cloths, who thankfully obliged. “How'd I end up out here?” John Estes asked while donning his uniform.
“I saw it with my own eyes. Some jackass POW’ED you from behind!” Deadpool began, “But not to worry! Your friend, ally and AA Sponsor, I, Deadpool have brought you far from the scene of the crime!”
The officer studied him for a bit. The red-cladded fellow’s eyes suggested that he was being honest, and the man's clothes seemed like one of those masked hero types. He thought back to his youth, reading old issues of The Human Torch and Namor.
“So whadda yer type call this, a 'Team-Up' or somethin’?” the officer replied as he buckled his leather utility belt around his waist. With a sudden shock, he reached for his side holster, finding it empty.
“Lookin' fer this, partner?” Deadpool asked with cowboy inflection. He spun the revolver along the trigger guard and pretended to fire it off at an unseen bandito. He frowned beneath his mask, not liking the weight of the weapon, then tossed it back to Mad Bull.
“That thing is so old, you'd be better off encasing it in plastic, sending it off to the CGC for grading, then begging Stan Lee to sign it.”
Mad Bull scoffed.
“Common, baby! I'll sell it on eBay and split the profit 50-50 with ya!”
The brawny policeman checked the cylinder. Satisfied that all six rounds were in place, he began to walk on, Deadpool not far behind. “You ever shut up?” the cop asked with mild annoyance.
“Never! Look, if we're gonna be partners, I got to ask,” Deadpool started. “Are you really a cop or is that some old school Village People fetish gear?”
Skreeep...skruuup...skraamp!
The bruised Sergeant awoke, finding himself being drug along in a harness by Deadpool. The muddy wetlands squelched with each inch. The Merc with the Mouth was gaily whistling an upbeat tune as he pulled the burly cop along. The song sounded vaguely like “Y.M.C.A.”
“Whaa, where am I?” The dazed officer asked.
Deadpool stopped suddenly, dropping the Sergeant with a soggy plop in the mud. “Where? Can ya believe this guy! I thought you were supposed to ask cops for directions, not the other way around,” Deadpool replied with a mocking tone. Noticing the joke went totally over Mad Bull's still confused head, he decided to be at least partially helpful.
“We are in the big 'H' - 'E' - 'Double Hockey Sticks,' officer!”
“Ackkhff! " The burly cop coughed and spat out the last of the seawater in his lungs. "No, this ain't hell… we're still in that game show, right? Dante's Abyss?”
“Ding! Ding! Ding! Give the man a prize!”
Mad Bull grumbled and began to pick himself out of the mud. He motioned at Deadpool for his cloths, who thankfully obliged. “How'd I end up out here?” John Estes asked while donning his uniform.
“I saw it with my own eyes. Some jackass POW’ED you from behind!” Deadpool began, “But not to worry! Your friend, ally and AA Sponsor, I, Deadpool have brought you far from the scene of the crime!”
The officer studied him for a bit. The red-cladded fellow’s eyes suggested that he was being honest, and the man's clothes seemed like one of those masked hero types. He thought back to his youth, reading old issues of The Human Torch and Namor.
“So whadda yer type call this, a 'Team-Up' or somethin’?” the officer replied as he buckled his leather utility belt around his waist. With a sudden shock, he reached for his side holster, finding it empty.
“Lookin' fer this, partner?” Deadpool asked with cowboy inflection. He spun the revolver along the trigger guard and pretended to fire it off at an unseen bandito. He frowned beneath his mask, not liking the weight of the weapon, then tossed it back to Mad Bull.
“That thing is so old, you'd be better off encasing it in plastic, sending it off to the CGC for grading, then begging Stan Lee to sign it.”
Mad Bull scoffed.
“Common, baby! I'll sell it on eBay and split the profit 50-50 with ya!”
The brawny policeman checked the cylinder. Satisfied that all six rounds were in place, he began to walk on, Deadpool not far behind. “You ever shut up?” the cop asked with mild annoyance.
“Never! Look, if we're gonna be partners, I got to ask,” Deadpool started. “Are you really a cop or is that some old school Village People fetish gear?”